Beginnings
by Eevee Tofu
Summary: Various scenarios regarding Matt and Mello reuniting after Mello leaves the House. Each chapter is a one-shot. Rated for the stuff young adults do in the backseats of cars! MxM Yaoi and Shounen-Ai. Rating went up, oh noes!
1. Mechanics

Got this idea randomly while I was doing yard work. Had to write it, if not only for the fact that I need to get to know Matt better. RP practice, I guess? I DUNNO. Anyway, enjoy.

Death Note (c) some Japanese people and a number of other companies.  
"Lovesong" lyrics (c) Robert Smith / The Cure

x - x - x - x

There was a long period of time during which I actually didn't know who I was. Years. It felt like decades, really. Millennia. I can't remember much of it except the intense sadness, the grief, the sheer emptiness that built up inside me. The loneliness, the pain, the ache, deep within my body, at the loss of the only thing that mattered to me.

Mello.

In the middle of the night, during the most vicious part of a thunderstorm, he disappeared. Not even a week before that, I'd finally gathered up my courage to tell him how I felt, how I had felt for years. I told him that I loved him... He smiled and said he didn't mind. I went to hug him, but instead he caught my lips in a kiss. I remember then, feeling like my heart had exploded with joy. Something inside me felt so right, so whole, that it almost hurt.

And... then he was gone.

I always assumed it was because of me. I found out later that L's death had pushed him to leave Wammy's, but I maintained the belief that he'd had second thoughts about me. And that wounded me, like a knife in the gut. I physically hurt for the first month or so after he left, whenever anything reminded me of him.

I left England the moment I was allowed to. With the money inherited from my parents, I flew to America and found a place to stay. I took up smoking, partly because I was bored, partly to ease the stress. I lived off my inherited funds and some payment I received for doing odd jobs; fixing computers and whatnot. I even tried dating, to no avail. There just wasn't anyone out there who interested me. Well... Mello was 'out there' somewhere, but not within my reach.

After a few months, I actually fell in love. She was this sweet little thing in red, vintage, pretty good condition, not too expensive... Yeah. A car. I told the guy I didn't care how much it cost, I was driving it out of his yard that day. And I did. For about three miles. And then the battery died.

Half an hour later, I was in the cab of a pickup driven by this burly-looking guy, my Mustang being towed behind us. This dude (whose name was Roy) told me he knew a place where I could get my car fixed up for pretty cheap. I was dubious, but well, I had no other choice, really. So I went along with it. He drove to a kind of shady-looking area of town, to a suspicious garage. At that point I began to understand what was going on. Yeah. I was fucked.

A group of men bigger and stronger than me restrained me, covering my eyes and mouth. I was thrown into some room, the door slammed behind me. I coughed, gasping for air, and took in my surroundings, standing up despite my sore knees. The place wasn't a dump, but it wasn't exactly opulent. Suddenly I heard footsteps from deeper within the layout.

"Alright, what the fuck's with all the noise? Trying to concentrate here!" an annoyed voice spat. I almost went weak in the knees, hearing that voice. The familiarity of it, its tone, its cadence, its slight British accent... all started my heart pounding. And then _he_ walked in, blond and gorgeous and so beautifully pissed-off. I fell in love all over again as I gazed upon his slender frame, accentuated by tight leather that fit his body perfectly. His intense grey eyes softened when I met their gaze; he smiled gently and lifted his arms at his sides, like a child asking for a hug.

... I once saw this painting of Jesus in this exact pose. And I've never been religious, but... Seeing Mello standing there, looking like a fucking saviour... I swear, right then, I believed.

I don't remember crossing the room. All I remember is suddenly being in those arms, feeling safe, feeling like I was where I belonged. I was home, and nothing else mattered. I pulled back to look in his eyes, and he pressed his lips against mine.

"I love you," he murmured against my lips, clutching me tightly. "Forgive me... please..."

Mello never, EVER says the "p-word." He's far above that; he can manipulate almost anyone into doing what he wants them to do. But at that moment I considered... What if he _was_ just trying to manipulate me? I pulled away, finally getting the chance to look in his face.

There were tears in his eyes... I brushed them away with my bare fingertips; he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and brought it to his lips to kiss it gently.

I didn't doubt him after that. He was far too gentle, too sweet, to be simply acting. He held me close as we stood there, quietly, just taking each other in. I turned my head slightly and he met my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, all fit so beautifully with mine; his arms locked so perfectly around me, it felt like it was meant to be this way.

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening. "Hey, Boss, we ripped out all the - eh?"

Mello took his time finishing our kiss before turning to face Roy. Almost immediately, every part of him not touching me seemed to harden and grow cold. He directed his chilling gaze at the large man, still holding me to him.

"Yeah?" he growled. "What is it?"

"Eh, uh... W-we ripped out all the useable parts from his car and we're about to transfer them into yours..."

"Good." Mello frowned coldly. "Make it sparkle." He produced a handgun from god-knows-where and pointed it at Roy. "I don't care if you have to buff it with your blood, but make it pretty. Or, well... You know." He smirked devilishly. "Go on, get to work." Roy hauled ass out of there. Mello turned back to me, and I _felt_ him soften. His eyes turned gentle and his muscles relaxed, and a sad smile touched his lips.

"Heh..." He looked away from me, down to the floor. "This is what I've become..." The smile faded from his face as he took a step backwards, away from me. "Pretty much the opposite of what I set out to be..."

I just gazed at him, standing there looking so beautifully tragic, and I chuckled a little. Nothing else would have fit, I realized. Mello had never been the well-behaved little genius that Near was; of course he'd end up the leader of some illegal group. I wasn't surprised, to be honest.

"I mean..." Mello moved to sit on a nearby sofa. "I don't have access to information that the sheep can get by simply asking for it. The only way I can find shit out is by twisting arms." He tangled his fingers in the red beads around his neck and brought the silver cross to his lips. "I'd rather not have to do it this way, but... well... Being polite doesn't get you anywhere in this world."

"You never were a gentleman anyway," I grinned, sitting beside him. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close.

"Except to you." He smiled, and his whole face lit up. "No one else deserves to see me so defenseless." He kissed my cheek. "No one else... would understand. The things love does to me..." He twined our fingers together, and I realized then that he'd taken off his gloves. His other hand came up to my face and curled over it. "The things you make me feel..." I gazed into his eyes - deep pools of greyish-blue emotion, endless portals into his heart.

"I love you," he breathed, never once looking away from my eyes. "Matt..." His fingers trailed softly over my cheek.

"I can't lose you again," my mouth insisted, without my permission. His eyebrows twitched upwards, furrowing slightly, as he tilted his head barely one degree to the side.

"You won't." He took both of my hands in his own, but suddenly looked down at them, away from my eyes. "I... I can't promise that we can be together all the time, but... I'll always come home to you." He met my gaze again, looking defenseless. "I _can_ promise that..."

A smile came to my face. "I just want to know that I can get a hold of you whenever I need you..."

Mello stared at me for a moment before lunging forward and embracing me. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into my hair. "Matt, I... I never thought..."

"It's okay." I hugged him tightly. "Don't worry about it, Mell. We were just kids then... Our minds work differently now."

He sighed. "Yeah... I guess..."

"Mello," I said softly. "Let it go." I stroked his golden hair gently. "Just let it go, Mells. We're together again, and that's all that matters, right?" I pulled away to kiss his cheek. "I love you. No matter what, Mello, I love you. No matter what you've done or who you've become, I will always love you."

I _felt_ him smile, and he nuzzled against me. "Matty," he murmured. And then I heard the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard... possibly the most beautiful in the history of sound itself.

"Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again...  
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again..."

Mello. _Singing._ In an amazing, rich, soft, flawless baritone. Singing what would eventually become _our_ song. The song that defined our relationship: our love standing up to the test of time and distance and harsh words.

_However far away, I will always love you.  
However long I stay, I will always love you.  
Whatever words I say, I will always love you.  
__**I will always love you.**_

x - x - x - x

Ahaha I managed to sneak some lyrics in there! But seriously... It's a beautiful song. Hearing it makes me think of these two! SO CUTE! Anyway, tidbit! "Lovesong" was released in August of 1989, which makes it older than Mello (who is in turn older than Matt.)

BLAH BLAH BLAH! Y'all don't wanna hear me, you just wanna dance.


	2. Weather

Alright, it's 1:30 in the morning and I really need to write some fucking FLUFF! I'll just let Matt and Mello take this wherever it wants to go.

x x x x x

It's nearly midnight when Mello pulls up to the apartment complex on his bike in the pouring rain. Lightning flashes in the sky, and a few moments later, thunder rumbles underfoot. Mello shivers and dismounts, scurrying to the overhang where the stairs are. _Patpatpatpat_ up the soggy wooden stairs, hunching his shoulders against the brutal wind.

Matt looks up from his game when the door creaks open and admits a waterlogged Mello. He blinks his gentle green eyes and addresses the blond with a characteristic monosyllabic greeting. _Hey._ Nothing more than that, and yet it brings a smile to Mello's lips, because Matt's feather-light attitude breaks Mello's barriers in a way that cold steel facades can't compare.

Mello trudges to the bathroom to peel off his soaked attire, dries off, makes a risky nude dash from the bathroom to his bedroom, and throws on some dry clothes. When he returns to the living room, he finds a heated fleece blanket draped over his shoulders, courtesy of Matt. Mello looks up and meets his friend's eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes green. Right now, they're blue. Blue like sorrow. Matt knows.

It's the anniversary of their deaths. Mello's family. His mother Helena, his father Jacques, his sisters Gabrielle and Lucie. Matt puts a hand on Mello's shoulder, the way a man comforts another man. Mello smiles sadly, wishing they could have met this boy; this sweet, amazing, beautiful boy who can make the world around him dissolve into the ether. When Mello is with Matt, nothing else matters. When they're together the most amazing thing happens. Matt comes out of his shell and holds actual conversations; Mello cools down and (pardon the pun) mellows out a little.

A thunderclap rocks the building, and the lights flicker and die. Mello tenses in the complete darkness, shivering slightly, but Matt's hand on his shoulder leads him to the bedroom, where they sit together on the bed that Mello knows has a Pokemon blanket on it. Just like they used to do at Wammy's during a thunderstorm, the two cuddle together silently. Matt holds Mello like a doll in his arms, face pressed into damp golden hair.

The black-and-red striped fabric under Mello's nose holds a clusterfuck of scents that anyone aside from him would find repulsive. It smells like smoke and burnt food, with a hint of something sweet... vanilla perhaps? Mello brings his face to Matt's neck and finds the skin there to be impossibly soft. He nuzzles into the bend where Matt's neck becomes his shoulder, his lips placing a delicate kiss on exposed skin.

Matt shudders, and for one long, torturous second, Mello fears he'll be pushed away. But the gamer only hugs him tightly, touching his lips to his comerade's cheek. Trembling fingers comb their way up Mello's scalp as Matt pulls back to gaze at him in the darkness. A flash of lightning illuminates the room for a moment, giving Mello a glimpse of Matt's face.

Emerald eyes are wide with disbelief and fear, pink lips are parted just enough to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Matt's warm face draws closer to Mello's and as he closes his eyes, his lashes flutter over Mello's cheeks. Slowly, silently, he asks permission; Mello touches his fingertips under Matt's chin and gently pulls him closer, tilting his head slightly as he tastes the other boy's breath.

The kiss, though awkward and short, is beautiful. Another kiss follows, more confident than its predecessor. The third is long, slow, and passionate, followed by a brief touch of lips, the punctuation at the end of a sentence. Their hearts pound wildly in their chests.

Mello whispers his companion's name, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together. "I love you," he murmurs, admitting that he's felt so for years. Matt smiles, and the blond can hear it in his voice when he speaks.

"I love you too," the gamer replies softly. "I always have."


	3. Bullets

This is really just an excuse for Mello to abuse his subordinates. xD

Leo, Lafayette, and McKinney are all my own characters.

x - x - x - x

I have never been so _fucking_ angry. Ever. Not when Roger denied me chocolate _for a week_, not when people mistook me for a girl, not even when Near beat my test score by _less than one percent._ Compared to this, I was _tame_ for those incidents. But right now, I'm just so pissed off I could break everything in sight.

Because _some assheaded subordinate_ shot my best friend. And I swear, when I find out who it was, I am going to _murder_ him... But. First things first.

I feel even worse when Leo comes in to fix up Matt's leg. My poor, stoic cohort distracts himself with his PSP while my doctor digs around in his bullet wound. To anyone else, Matt would look totally unconcerned. But I can tell, when he starts muttering "Die you sons of bitches, die," that it hurts like _fuck_. I, consequently, distract myself with chocolate.

Matt's pain is my pain.

I can't stand it anymore, so I head back to base, leaving Matt in Leo's care. Leo is one of the few people I can actually _trust_. He's helped me numerous times after knives, bullets, you name it. He's the one I told Matt to call when I nearly blew myself up. But yeah. Leo's an honest man. Loves his wife and kids. He's a great guy who just got caught up in the wrong crowd.

I fire off a few rounds once I get inside the base. It gets quiet, and all heads turn to me. Even a few faces turn pale. This gives me a sick satisfaction.

"Someone," I growl, "is in deep shit." I fire at the ceiling, and I hear the shell casing tinkle as it hits the floor. "Kid in stripes. Who shot him?" Dead silence. I shoot the ceiling again. "One of you shitheads better fucking own up to this, or _each_ of you is gonna get lead in your skull!"

I hear a stifled scoff to my left. Lafayette gets a bullet in his shoulder. I'm genuinely angry now, and "I will not stand for any more shit today," I snarl through my teeth.

McKinney speaks up. "The scrawny brunet with the weird boots?" My attention focuses on him immediately. "He looked like he was snooping around, so I scared him off."

I breathe and regain my composure, walk over to him coolly, and punch him in his fat, ugly face. McKinney's bigger and bulkier than I am, by far, but I pride myself in having strength that defies my lanky stature. I pull out my gun and empty it into his knee. Yeah, you heard me, his knee. Do you know how much that shit hurts? It hurts a lot.

I straighten up and flick the hair from my face, glaring down my nose at him. "Someone clean this up," I spit. As I turn to leave, I feel a sense of accomplishment, a sense of justice.

Back home, I walk in to find Leo putting the final touches on Matt's dressing. I smile; the boy is asleep like a log, sprawled out on the couch. "Hey," I say quietly, walking over to put my hand on Leo's shoulder. "Thanks, man." I hand him an envelope, but he shakes his head.

"This one's on me," he says with a smile.

I force the envelope into his hand. "Take it," I practically order him. "Buy Sophia something nice for her birthday."

Leo's smile reaches his eyes, and he finally accepts my payment. He's a sucker for his five-year old granddaughter.

"Keep a close eye on him," he instructs me. "Don't let him put weight on that leg until further notice."

I nod. "Yeah, don't worry. He doesn't like to move around much anyway." A grin spreads across my face. "I guess I'll have to stay at home and play housewife for a while."

He smiles like the kind old man he is, and pats me on the shoulder with a knowing look. "He's a good kid," he says with a nod. "Take care of him." I thank him one last time before he leaves. God bless that man.

... Suddenly I feel fidgety. I make my way into the kitchen and take out a frying pan and instant pancake mix. I don't care if it's six in the evening, we're having some fucking pancakes. With chocolate chips. What're _you_ gonna do about it? Pssh. You're just jealous.

I watch the mix like a hawk as it cooks, making sure to turn the cakes at just the right moment. Matt likes his pancakes slightly undercooked, still gooey in the middle. I soon run out of batter and just leave it at that, licking the spatula. Twelve pancakes should be enough, right? Yeah. I think that's enough. I stack them on a plate and cover them with foil to keep them warm until Sleeping Beauty over there wakes up. Hah, Sleeping Beauty... I snort at the thought. Matt would probably kick me if he knew I'd called him that.

"I smell num nums," a groggy Matt observes from the living room. Like a complete idiot, I grin at the sound of his voice. I bring the plate out and set it on the coffee table, two smaller plates and forks following. "... You made pancakes." His eyes sparkle and he sits up eagerly.

"Yep. You want syrup?" I ask before sitting down. He shakes his head, picking up a pancake with his hands and nibbling on it. I sit beside him and take a chocolate chip one onto my plate, to eat in a more civilized manner. Not to say that Matt's way of eating isn't cute, cause it totally is.

Awkward silence stretches between us. After three pancakes, Matt sighs contentedly and leans back in the sofa. "That hit the spot," he says with the hint of a yawn. "Thanks, Mell."

"Anytime." I smile and ruffle his hair. He squirms a little, like an excited puppy. He's so damn _cute._ I set my plate on the coffee table and attack him with a hug, eliciting a squeal from him.

_Too_ damn cute.

We end up lying on the couch, him on his back and me on top of him with my head on his chest. His hand comes up into my hair and pets it absentmindedly. I hear his heart start to beat almost unnoticeably faster.

"You okay?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbows to look in his face.

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he takes my face in both his hands and pulls me close for a kiss. I melt into him, willingly returning the gesture. He tastes like smoke and sugar. I love it.

As we part, he chuckles softly, finally opting to answer my question. "I am now."


	4. Warmth

More fluff. Oh and hey, you get some sex in this chapter! WHEE!

x - x - x - x

I haven't laid eyes on him in years, but when I glimpse him from across the room at the club, I just _know_ it's him. He has that same dorky smile, the slightly chubby cheeks, the stupid orange goggles. It's him, it's definitely him. My heart leaps into my throat.

"Matt," I whisper.

And he turns and looks in my direction... There's no way he heard me.

He barely spares me a glance before going back to watching some scantily-clad girl gyrate inappropriately (never mind the fact that I dance like that sometimes). But then, he looks back at me, and I can see the gears in his head turning. I smile, and he takes a few steps in my direction.

"Mello?" his lips form. I move toward him, and he grins like an idiot, all but running to me. But he stops awkwardly once he reaches me. This makes me feel sad. I open my arms to him, trying to look as non-threatening as possible; he hesitates, then wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly.

... He's warm and soft, just like I remember... My Matt. My little puppy boy. I pull back to look in his eyes, and I somehow _know_ that he understands what I'm thinking... that this isn't the right place to catch up. He takes me by the hand and leads me outside, where we sit in the back of his car. The silence is unbearable, filled with tension.

"I'm sorry," I finally murmur.

"It's okay." He forces a smile. "You were confused and angry and didn't know what you were feeling..."

"No, Matt, I knew," I sigh. "It just... It went against everything I'd been taught, you know?" My hand automatically comes up to my rosary. "I didn't know if I could be okay with that..."

He nods. "I guess I can kinda understand that."

"Matty," I find myself saying softly, "can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" My hands clench into fists on my thighs. "I... I know it's too much to ask to start over, but..."

"Mello, look at me. Do I look angry?" I turn to face him; his expression of rage is so ridiculously over-the-top that I can't help but burst into laughter. He does too after a moment, and I come to understand that this means I'm forgiven. I get the feeling that if he'd just said, 'I forgive you,' it wouldn't have been nearly this liberating. We chortle on for a good few minutes before we're finally able to sigh it off.

I turn to him to say something, but I forget what it is when I realize he's looking at me almost... sadly. "What?" I ask.

"You," he whispers, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek lightly. "You've always been attractive, but I never imagined you'd grow up to be so... _beautiful_..."

I can see in his dark blue eyes that he loves me - that he never _stopped_ loving me. Maybe he even loves me more now than he did when I left. I don't know. All I know is that I love him back, and that if God is watching us right now, He _understands_ that. And I have no reason to feel ashamed, because it's not the body I love - it's the Matt inside. I honestly would not care if he was a girl, or overweight, or another race, or horrendously scarred, or whatever.

"I love you," I say as I lean forward to kiss him. He whispers a relieved "I love you too" before placing one hand on the back of my neck and kissing me like no one's ever kissed me before, cradling my head, supporting it so that I can just let myself _melt_ into him. Suddenly I start crying and I really don't know why, but he breaks his lips from mine and touches them to the corners of my eyes, kissing away my tears.

There isn't a word strong enough for this feeling. There is no single word to describe this conglomerate of emotions. Love, gratitude, trust, need, hope, anticipation, powerlessness, relief, desperation, and, and... and Matt... I feel Matt. I feel him in every part of me, from my beating heart to the tips of my fingers and toes. There's this incredible joy all throughout my body. My lips are relieved to be united with his; my hands rejoice at the feel of his soft skin; my heart pounds in excitement at the almost nonexistant sounds escaping him.

His hand moves to my hip and strokes the exposed skin there. I shiver. "Matt," I breathe onto his lips. He pulls back to look in my face.

"Mell..." he says softly. His hand trails slowly to my thigh, and I lose it. I dive in to kiss him, my hips moving of their own accord, bucking up against his hand. Matt freezes for a moment and I fear I've scared him off, but then he climbs on top of me and rocks against me, his hands busy with the zipper on my vest. I gently let it slide down my arms as I arch forward into his touch. My hands grope at the hem of his shirt; he lifts his arms and lets me pull it up over his head, revealing milky white skin that almost glows in the moonlight. His jeans sit low on his hips and I can see the sharp angles of those bones jutting out on either side of his stomach. My hands slide from his hips up his chest, slightly toned, the muscles firm beneath my fingers. "God Matt," I whisper, meeting his gaze. He's so different from the chubby little fourteen-year old I left behind. He isn't just cute anymore. He's... gorgeous. Sexy.

"I want you," I murmur, cupping his face in my hands. He hesitates.

"... Now?" he asks.

I nod.

"Right here, right now?"

"Yeah..." I look deep into his eyes and try to make him see that he's making me feel things I've never felt before. I need him to understand that I trust him, that I want to let go and be totally controlled by something far greater than myself... I want to journey into the deepest throes of pleasure with the only person who's ever meant anything to me. A dozen emotions flicker across his face and he bites his lip, looking away.

I stroke his hair softly. "If you don't want to, that's okay."

"No, I... I do." He meets my eyes again. "I really do, it's just that... I'm a virgin," he murmurs.

"I don't care, I'll bottom," I offer without hesitation.

He blushes deeply. "And I-I don't have any... anything. I mean, I don't care if we do it without a rubber, I don't give a shit about diseases and such..."

"I've never done it without, so we should be safe."

"Do you have... you know... lube?"

"No, but that's an easy problem to fix." I pull his head down to mine and kiss him as I kick off my boots and fumble with all the closures in the front of my pants. Matt moves off me to do the same, and we manage to strip down while still kissing, ending up both of us stark naked in the back seat of his car.

"Um, so how are we gonna fix that issue?"

"I'll just have to make some." My hand travels down between my legs, preparing to jerk myself, yes for the sake of jetting laid. Matt quickly understands my motives and leans me back on the seat; I hook one knee over the seat back and drop the other to the floor. He bends over me and kisses me deeply.

"Mmh..." I moan into his mouth as his hands slide up my thighs. He takes hold of his member and rubs the head up and down my length, over my pouch, then against my asshole, making everything in my head spin. I grab my erection in both hands and pull on it, my hips twitching up and down to assist in the friction. Matt's hand wraps around mine and he helps bring me to the end, kneading my sac as I release, as if to wring every drop of semen out of me. His lips place delicate kisses on my face as he wipes the goo off with his fingers.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks of me.

I gaze up at him; at his soft blue eyes and bright copper hair; at his long, feminine eyelashes and slightly crooked teeth; at the boy I once loved, and the young man I now adore.

"Only if you're sure you love me," I whisper. "I don't want you giving yourself up to someone you might regret later..."

He smiles, easing a finger inside me. "I followed you halfway across the world, Mell, of course I love you." He kisses me softly. "More than anything else."

I reach up to stroke his cheek as another finger wriggles its way in alongside the first. "I've missed you so much," I purr. His smile widens and he curls his fingers, pressing against a spot that makes me lift into his touch, wanting more; while the pleasure distracts me, yet another finger pushes into me.

"You really are beautiful," he whispers breathily.

I try to frown, but I'm pretty sure I fail miserably. "Nuh uh," I mutter.

"Yeah you are," Matt insists, as he places himself between my legs. "You're breathtaking." He removes his fingers and slowly, gently, he presses himself into me. And as much as I can tell he's trying not to hurt me, it's splitting me in half. The pain is... crazy. Of course I've used toys before but... nothing's ever torn at me like this...

"Mell." The pain fades a little as Matt stops moving. "We don't have to do this, if it hurts too much..."

"No!" I blurt out, startling him a little. "I... I'd never do this with anyone else, Matt, I want it with you and only you, and I don't care how much it hurts..."

"I thought you said you'd done this before?"

I meet his eyes, blushing. "I... I've had sex before, but... You're the only one I've let inside me."

His eyes widen in such a way that I can tell he's honored to have this distinction. He kisses my lips softly and resumes pushing into me, slowly, gently. His fingers lock with mine as he keeps at it, incredibly patient. And eventually he's inside me, up to the hilt, at which point he leans down and embraces me. I can feel, in his jittery hips, that he desperately wants to move, but even more than that, he wants not to hurt me. It's taking every ounce of restraint that he has.

Minutes pass, and I feel myself relax.

"Mell... There's something I think you should know..."

"Yeah?"

"My name," he whispers. "It's Mail."

"Mihael," I divulge in return.

His soft hand brushes my face. "Mihael," he repeats in a breath. "My prince."

I blush, frowning a little. "I'm not a prince..."

"To me, you are." Matt kisses my lips briefly and slowly, slowly, starts to move inside me.

... And oh gods, I'm in love. The gentle rock of his hips, the tickle of his warm breath as he pants softly into my neck... It's perfection. It's simply pure perfection.

I gaze up at him as he makes love to me and he's the most radiant thing on earth, lit from behind by the neon lights of the club front. The pain begins to fade and I just allow myself to enjoy the wonderful sensation of him inside me.

Then he brushes against a spot that sends shivers through my bloodstream. I buck; he aims. And he hits that spot dead on. I cry out something unintelligible and he slides his hand under my lower back, holding me at the perfect angle to keep hitting my prostate. I wrap my arms around him and meet his thrusts eagerly. His lips land right next to my ear and he breathes, "I've got you, Mell, it's okay, I've got you..." Those words reassure me in ways I can't explain.

I cry out as I feel myself close to the end. Mail holds me, he just holds me tightly, as he brings me to the pinnacle of pleasure. I feel him come deep within me, so wonderful, so warm, so perfect, and all I hear is static, all I see is white, all I feel is him...

Skin touches skin and we just lay there, breathing, feeling each other, being alive. I slide my hands over his back; he sighs and shudders and presses closer still.

"My Matt," I hear my own ragged voice murmur.

I swear I can _feel_ him smile. "My Mello," he whispers back, nuzzling into my neck.

Our breathing slows to relatively normal after a while. Matt clings to me like a frightened kitten.

"What?" I ask softly.

He sighs. "I'm just... afraid you're gonna leave again..."

"... I might," I concede. He makes a sad little noise and hugs me tightly. I smile. "But wherever I go, Matt, I'll take you with me."


End file.
